


A Bloody Mistake

by Malvapulce



Series: De Winters [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Bad Humor, Blood Drinking, Blood and Violence, Drama, Eventual Smut, Gay, Gay Male Character, Gay Sex, Homophobic Language, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Paranormal, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Swearing, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:33:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29636769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malvapulce/pseuds/Malvapulce
Summary: You’ll meet a tall, dark stranger… But he’s not gay like you – nor is he a vampire like you. You know you should just back away and forget about him. You definitely shouldn’t follow him and under no circumstances should you even consider turning him into a…oh hell, Adrian, what are you doing?One drunken night at a bar, a young vampire accustomed to living in solitude makes a grave mistake and as a result flips his quite uneventful, yet comfortable life upside down.(Warning! An image of blood in the first chapter.)
Series: De Winters [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2177640
Comments: 5
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, after all these years of talking about it, I finally present you with my original work. It will be multi-chaptered and slow burn, full of bad humour, unlucky vampires, vampiric clichés and whatnot.
> 
> Please note that English is not my first language. The first part of this story has been betaed by a native speaker (cheers, Hailey!) but I can’t guarantee there won’t be any unusual expressions. I have yet to find a beta for the second part, but it’s gonna take a while before we get there. I’ll keep adding tags as the story progresses but I’m gonna leave out those which I consider big spoilers. 
> 
> Please also note that this story has offensive, sometimes homophobic language, conservative worldviews, some violent scenes, mild horror, and explicit sexual content later on. Do not proceed if you find these things disturbing.

  
  
Chapter 1

He was the most beautiful man I had ever seen.

Or maybe not _ever_. But the most beautiful I had seen in many years.

He could be described as dark, tall and generally very good-looking, but that wasn't what had caught my attention. No, it was the way he walked, talked, sat, pulled out his wallet, lifted his glass and just, owned the space. His hair was a bit too long for the current trend, messy and dark brown with a hint of red glimmering in odd strands when the light hit them. His neck was long, widening to broad shoulders, tanned skin disappearing underneath his shirt which advertised a movie I hadn't seen or a band I didn't know. Or perhaps it was a video game. I keep forgetting that nowadays it is perfectly okay to wear a shirt with an image of a video game printed on it – it doesn't mean a downward spiral of your social status. The shirt hugged his frame all the way down to his narrow waist and hips. He seemed to be smiling or laughing every time I dared to glance his way, mirth reaching his hazel eyes. Maybe that was why he was so popular. I hadn't checked how long I had been waiting for him to be alone but it had to be hours. The night was fading into early morning, I could sense it; the point where carefree chatting grew into goal-driven conversations which then eventually turned into the decisive 'Your place or mine?'

So, he was beautiful. He was tall and dark. He was hot as hell. He was also a human. Which I wasn't. Not anymore.

However, there was another significant thing that I was and he wasn't.

"Sorry, dude, not gay," he said, his voice relatively friendly, but I could sense a hint of something else behind the words. Disgust? Discomfort? Annoyance? As in 'Why do you disturb me while I'm trying to have a fun night out?' Didn't he see he was doing the same thing to the ladies in the club? Or maybe he wasn't. From what I had seen, no girl seemed to mind his approaches. He was way too charming.

Maybe he was just taken aback because of my appearance. My face sometimes did it to people. Too pale, despite the make-up, too eerie, too... weird. I think his eyes landed on my mouth for a split of second before he yanked them back up to meet mine.

"You should try your luck in the club around the corner," he added. Oh, so he was kind enough to offer me advice. I had been turned down in nastier ways, but it still stung. I muttered something unimportant and walked back to my end of the counter, nodding to the bartender to pour me something clear and strong. While sipping my drink, I threw glances in Mr. Hot-n-Gorgeous' general direction. If he noticed me still stalking him, he didn't acknowledge it in any way, too busy chatting with girls who had returned from the bathroom. While nursing my drink, the taste of vodka sour and bitter on my tongue, I wondered which one of them he was going to take home.

Contrary to a popular belief, we can get drunk. Alcohol just fucks our system up way worse than humans'. The hangover is beyond belief and makes you question your every life choice. That's why we usually keep our distance from the booze. That, and the fact that alcohol is not served in our gatherings, despite our kin being all about drinking. But if the human you drink from has had more than a few glasses of champagne, it transfers to you and you get a little woozy. Not drunk-drunk, but tipsy. That's not too bad. It's different when you decide to discard your carefully planned diet and just pour the booze down your throat directly.

Mr. Hot-n-Gorgeous was explaining the incident to the ladies buzzing around him. He was discreet enough to not point in my direction, but his description must have been pretty accurate as the girls peered at me, smug smiles plastered on their lips. I considered changing locations, heading to the club around the corner, just like the target of my stalking had suggested. As my other times in The Pink Void, I'd probably find someone to warm my bed for the rest of the night, and if I was hungry at the break of dawn, the unlucky fellow could serve as my supper. If not, I'd just send him away before I'd have to hit the sack for real. No strings attached either way.

For some reason I stayed at my seat, forcing the vodka down sip by sip, keeping my eyes on the guy. A familiar ache was lifting its head inside, making my blood bubble and nerves tingle. I felt a faint stinging in my gums, around my canines. The beast within was beginning to stir. It had been three nights since my last warm meal.

Yes, I'm a vampire. Cliché, huh? No, I didn't ask to be one. No, I don't think being a vampire is the best thing since portable steam cleaners. Sometimes it's merely inconvenient, sometimes it sucks ass. It's restrictive and the diet is very limited. Sure, you'll live forever but even that gets boring after a while. It gets _lonely_. You are only ever supposed to interact with your own kind. Interacting with humans is allowed if it's necessary, like during hunting or, say, you wish to rent an apartment. But a vampire is not supposed to form any kind of close relationship with a human, be it friendship, love or mere business partnership. Although, I'm sure there are a lot of vampires that break the rules and get away with it. I just don't know anyone personally, at least not at the moment. It's kind of hard to get to know someone when you can only meet them after dark, you never eat anything, barely drink anything... yeah, a vampire makes a rather dull friend. Not to mention the tiny detail that eventually even the dumbest, most uneducated moron of a human would grow suspicious.

I knew it was a bad idea to get drunk. There's another rule amongst vampires: Never drink alcohol and hunt. Worst case scenario, you get yourself killed. Even if you managed to drag your sorry drunken ass out of the incident alive, you'd leave too many traces behind. I mean, that's common sense, isn't it? Drinking makes you sloppy.

Too bad it's quite hard to remember the rules when you're fucking smashed.

Mr. Hot-n-Gorgeous stayed at the club almost until closing time. He also stayed put in his seat, occasionally ordering another drink for himself and his numerous fans. After watching their interaction for a few hours, I came to the conclusion that he wasn't genuinely interested in any of them. Didn't mean he wouldn't take one them home. Uninteresting partners worked best for one-night stands.

I was surprised to see him leave the club alone. It was probably around three in the morning, I didn't bother to check. I scrambled to my feet, hurrying after him, bumping into a couple of drunken clubbers on my way. The floor was swaying, the edges of my vision were blurring and I almost walked straight into a wall before I realized there was a giant mirror in my way. Holy fuck, I was smashed. Had I chosen any other target, I would have probably forgotten about the hunt, but I couldn't let the man of my dreams escape.

Breena once said I'm a stubborn drunk. As it happens, I'm a stubborn person in general, but apparently gulping down some booze doubles the trait.

Damn, I miss her sometimes. Why can't she just get herself a mobile phone so we could talk without our parents finding out?

A chilly breeze hit my face the minute I stepped outside. Turning my head left and right, I spotted my target walking down the street, heading to a bus stop or U-Bahn. He was still alone, but naturally, living in a metropolis and everything, the streets were not empty. There is a good reason why vampires don't usually hunt downtown. I needed to somehow get him to step to a side alley or another quiet location.

As I followed him from a safe distance, I saw him turn right, between two large buildings, away from the street lights and company of passers-by. I hoped he was taking a detour. If he lived down that alley, I would have to kiss my plans goodbye (which probably would have been the best) if I didn't want to break into a building. I quickened my steps, my head just slightly sobered from the cool night air and the sudden opportunity presented in front of me. My coordination was still rather off and I collided with a man who was even more drunk than I.

"Hey, fuckin' watch where you're going, fag!"

I didn't stop to confront him about his words as I reached the corner where Mr. Hot-n-Gorgeous had turned and froze when I didn't see him.

Shit. I had lost the sight of him for ten seconds tops. Where could he have hidden? Had he been aware of me following him, after all? But I hadn't seen him look behind, and human senses were useless, anyway. I scurried along the alley, not caring if my boots clacked against the pavement. There weren't any entrances to apartment blocks, only closed shop doors and garbage bins. Then I spotted another alley, running between a barber's shop and a Chinese restaurant, and hurried to it, cursing my lack of discretion. What kind of bloody idiot gets themselves wasted before a hunt?

I saw him right away. It was kind of hard not to, since the alley was narrow and otherwise empty. His pace was brisk yet calm, his hands tucked in the pockets of his jacket, the hem flapping behind him, not a trace of consumed alcohol in his steps. In less than half a minute he would be back in a lit street and my chance would be gone.

I attacked. He managed to spin around and I saw his eyes widen before I pushed his head out of the way and sunk my teeth into his neck. The first burst of his blood, warm, sharp and masculine, filled my mouth, wiping away the sourness of vodka and rushing into my head, fighting with the drunken numbness.

He fought back. I had been prepared for it. What I hadn't been prepared for was how strong he was. He was more muscular than I, but he was no body builder. Maybe he did martial arts. In combat between a human and a vampire, the vampire almost always wins. But if the vampire is somehow weakened, be it due to starvation or, say, state of intoxication, things might turn around. A weakened vampire should never attack a human capable of defending themselves. A weakened vampire should never attack a young, healthy man, especially if they had been poisoning themselves with liqueur.

He kicked me, first in the shin and then in the stomach, knocking the wind out of me. His hand found my collar and he pulled me off of his neck, cursing loudly.

"What the fuck are you doing?! Fucking freak!"

He threw me to the ground. I landed on my ass, the blow resonating through my spine and making my teeth clank together. He pressed his hand against the side of his neck, but the liquid seeped between his fingers, painting the collar of his jacket crimson. He was strong and not nearly as drunk as I, but I had bitten into his jugular vein and the blood was pumping out with every beat of his heart. Soon not even the adrenaline rush would keep him on his feet.

"The fuck do you think you are?! Some kind of vampire?"

Oh, the irony. I snorted. I considered answering him but I had a job to finish, and his shouting might lure some unwanted company. Folding my legs underneath me, I pushed myself up, brushing off dust and gravel that clung to my pants. And then I leaped.

He had no time to react as I moved too fast for the human eye to see, this time attacking the other side of his neck, aiming for the main artery there. This would cause the majority of his blood to end up on his clothes instead of in my mouth, but my main priority was to get him unconscious. My canines pierced his skin and more blood flooded into my mouth. I drank as much as I could before he managed to land another blow, this time grabbing my hair and yanking my head back, and right afterwards delivering a shameless, merciless knee to my groin.

That dropped me onto my knees. Shit, vampire or not, it still hurts like hell to get kicked in the nuts. I groaned in pain, toppling over to my side, clutching my abused junk as if holding it would make the pain dissipate.

Mr. Hot-n-Gorgeous was panting heavily, trying to decide which side of his neck required more attention. He pulled out his phone, fumbling a little because of all the blood in his fingers. Great, now he was going to call the police. I needed to flee.

But then he wavered. No, he swayed. And then he staggered, his knees buckling and his eyes glazing over. The phone slipped from his hand, the screen crashing into pieces as it hit the pavement. He didn't fall but sat down, supporting his upper body long enough to reach a wall and lean against it. His lids were drooping, but eyes kept searching me out, questioning and accusing.

"What the hell..." he began, trailing off as the rest of his sentence died on his lips and he lost consciousness.

Grunting in pain, I got to my feet and went to him. I ran my fingers through my hair before I remembered they were bloody. My coat was practically ruined and I had torn my trousers when my ass had hit the pavement. This had been the messiest hunt in the history of messy hunts, my personal record, no doubt about that. And now I was facing yet another problem. How I was supposed to get my prey to my apartment? Vampires did possess inhuman strength, but I lived like 20 kilometres away, almost in the suburbs. There was no way I could carry him there. How suspicious would it look if I dragged a half-dead man to the U-Bahn? His upper body was covered in blood and he was as limp as a paralyzed jellyfish. Fuck. I clearly hadn't thought this through.

In the end I covered his neck and shoulders with my scarf as best as I could and hailed a taxi.

The driver gave us a funny look as we crawled into the backseat. And by crawl, I mean I pushed Mr. Hot-n-Gorgeous-n-Almost-Dead in and tried to arrange his body in a sitting position. To tell the truth, it was nothing short of a miracle that the driver had even stopped. We looked like we were coming out of a massacre, even without my coat which I had dumped in a trash bin.

"My friend had a bit too much to drink," I explained. Only then it dawned to me that I might have tell-tale splashes of red around my mouth and I nearly panicked before I remembered that people didn't believe in vampires and the most probable explanation the driver would come up was that I had been punched. That theory would support the sight of my out-cold companion. "And we got into a fight," I added. "You know, some guys don't appreciate same-sex couples..." _Stop babbling, you idiot!_

The driver didn't seem to care about our status or recent history. He just eyed me, his brows furrowing in disapproval. "Just make sure he doesn't puke in the car. I'm gonna make you pay for cleaning if you ruin the seats."

"He won't puke," I said. I just hoped he wouldn't stop breathing before we made it to my place and I could finish what I had started.

"The same goes to the blood. Don't make a mess in my taxi. So, where do you wanna go? Hospital?"

"No, just take us home." I told him the address. He clearly thought we should have gotten ourselves checked but didn't press it, instead resetting the meter and turning the car around to the direction I had given him.


	2. Chapter 2

Yeah, about that loneliness thing. It can really get overwhelming. It can mess with your head, especially if you have been disowned by your family because you happen to like guys and refused to marry to a girl from a wealthy vampire family. Living alone for three decades is too long, even for a creature that is practically immortal. It's not that I didn't meet other vampires – I did, but most of them are really, and I mean _really_ , conservative. Nothing like in that movie which came out seven years after my rebirth – the one where Kiefer Sutherland and the other guys ride cool bikes and party like no tomorrow. What was it called again? Fright Night? No, that's another 80's vampire flick. Oh yeah, The Lost Boys. Gay vampires are a rarity, even in a city as big as Berlin. In that regard, you couldn't really blame me for trying to find a companion, now, could you?

It honestly hadn't been the plan. I don't think I'd have done it, had I been sober. But I wasn't. I had downed two glasses of red wine and two shots of vodka and that's quite enough for someone who only drinks alcohol once in a decade. I was drunk enough for almost any kind of stupid idea to sound great. And even if the little scuffle in the dark alley and the 20-minute taxi ride home had cleared my head a bit, I was adamant to see my plan through.

I paid the driver and dragged my companion out of the car. There could very well have been blood stains in the seats. I didn't dare to look; I was in a hurry to get Mr. Hot-n-Gorgeous up the stairs before somebody noticed. Mrs. Hoffman of the second floor was already suspicious of my actions (as she was of everyone else's – but I certainly had something to hide). Not that she or my other neighbours usually left their apartments at this hour, but it would be just my luck to bump into a nosy neighbour while carrying a load that looked like a hacked up body.

When the driver had driven away and I was sure no one was looking, I heaved the limp body over my shoulder and hurried inside. The elevator was down and I stepped inside, the old booth creaking underneath my heavy steps. As we began ascending, I noticed blood dripping onto the floor. Great, now I would have to clean the elevator too, because Mrs. Hoffman knew just who to blame if there was some weird mess in the hallway. I eyed my guest with increasing worry. He was breathing, but it was getting shallow and irregular, and I could feel his life line nearing its snapping point. It was almost as if his spirit was loitering behind the smallest of barriers, waiting to break free. I was cutting it very close.

A deep, ragged sigh escaped my lips after I got us into my apartment and closed the door. I was shaky and exhausted but at the same time there was a burst of adrenaline pumping through my body, forcing me to act. I knew what I had to do but I had never done it before, and while the idea was simple, I had a hunch that it was one of those events where people tended to leave details out, like childbirth. _This is the principle, just push the baby out, but hey, you are going to soil yourself while doing it. Oh, I'm sorry, did no one tell you?_

I lowered Mr. Hot-n-Gorgeous onto the living room carpet and carefully unwrapped the scarf from around his neck. The cloth was soaked and the skin beneath it so red that I couldn't make out the puncture marks. I had done the first part; I had shed so much of his blood that he would die without a transfusion. Now I had to replace it with mine. The problem was that the man was out cold and didn't look like he was going to wake up any time soon. I stared at his closed eyes, pale face and dry lips and wondered how I was going to get my blood into his system if he couldn't drink it. I didn't have needles or tubes or any other medical equipment in my flat.

"Hey!" I tapped him on the cheek. "Hey, hot guy! Wake up!"

No reaction. Shit.

"Hey!" I raised my voice, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him. "You need to wake up!"

Of course he didn't. He had been bleeding from both of his major neck veins for half an hour. It was rather peculiar that he was still breathing. 

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I didn't know what else to do so I bit my wrist and brought it to his mouth, lifting his head so that the blood wouldn't get into his lungs. Crimson liquid pooled onto his tongue and I took my limb away, afraid of choking him. I had no idea if some of my blood could be absorbed this way, but it was my only chance. He would die if I left him to find the closest pharmacy.

"Come on, drink. Drink, you pretty bastard!"

For what seemed like hours nothing happened and I was already going through my neighbours in my head ¬– was there anyone who could have syringes in their apartment – but then I felt him stir. Just the tiniest bit, but I felt it.

"Oi, drink! Swallow!"

The blood inched towards his throat and disappeared. He didn't start coughing so I could only hope the liquid had gone down the right canal. I think I head a tiny gulp. I waited, holding my breath, but he seemed to return to his previous catatonic state, his head heavy on my lap.

"Damn it." I lifted my wrist again, coaxing some more blood onto his tongue. It went down too without coughing, so I repeated the procedure two more times. Honest to God, I had no idea what was happening. I didn't know if what I was doing was even remotely helping him. But he didn't look... deader than before. 

This was the last time I tried to turn anyone into a vampire. I obviously wasn't cut out for it. What was another thirty years of solitude compared to this fucking mess?

Then he inhaled deeper than before. I froze, not sure if it indicated that he would wake up or that he was taking his last breath. I saw his eyelids flutter just slightly, and he sucked in another dose of oxygen, his chest rising high and staying there for a good five seconds before descending and a little sound left his lips.

In a burst of renewed hope, I patted his cheek again. "Hey, Mr. Barfly, you need to wake up."

He groaned and his eyes opened just slightly. The hazel gaze was disoriented, searching but not really seeing. Maybe it was for the best. I couldn't imagine I was very high on his list of favourite people at the moment.

"Come on, you need to drink this." I stuck my wrist underneath his nose, hoping that the smell of my blood might evoke something within him. Some primal urge of survival. "It'll make you feel better."

There are tales of noble humans who refuse to live as a creature of the night, instead choosing to follow the Reaper to their fate. But they are just those – tales. The truth is that the survival instinct is so strong that even the most determined I-shall-die-a-gallant-death wannabe-knight takes their chances if offered. I didn't have any first-hand experience, but I'd been told that in front of the million dollar question 'Do you want to live or die?' almost everyone chose to live.

I didn't have to persuade him or make a Lestat-like speech. I simply offered him my bleeding wrist and urged one more time. "Drink." He didn't argue, merely grabbing my limb and bringing it to his mouth.

I nearly passed out. I don't know what I had expected, but getting your blood sucked out of you wasn't such an amazing experience like it is in stories. Sure, there was an initial rush and a hot wave surging through my body, but they were soon replaced by almost paralyzing weakness. I suspected the booze had something to do with it. When my vision began to narrow, I yanked my arm back and crawled across the room, leaning against the wall and leaving my guest lying on his back on the carpet (which I'd have to throw away along with my clothes, because god damn, did it make a mess to turn someone into a vampire). He was panting hard, his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling, and it looked like he might start convulsing. That was the last thing my fading consciousness registered and then everything went black.

During the next hours I drifted in and out of consciousness. First time I stirred was when I heard my guest whining loudly. I managed to peel my eyes open for long enough to see him lying on his stomach and clawing at the carpet. He looked to be in serious pain. Too bad I was too weak to help him. The next time I woke up was when the first rays of sun pierced the horizon and the room became too lit for my liking. Mr. Hot-n-Gorgeous was still sprawled flat on his stomach on the carpet, his face towards me. It seemed like he had thrown up a fair amount of booze mixed with blood. I wondered if I should give him more of my blood, but he seemed to be sleeping peacefully for a change so I let him be. Instead, I pulled myself up to my shaky legs and went to close the curtains. The couch was near enough but I didn't want to stain it, so after checking that my companion was breathing, I just went back to my previous spot beside the wall. The third time was when I felt something foul and acidic climbing up my esophagus and, alarmed, sprung up and bolted to the bathroom. I barely made it before I threw up what felt like litres of vodka, red wine and blood. Some of the mixture got into my nose and the burning brought tears to my eyes. I retched until some bile started coming up, giving the impression that my stomach was empty, but in the light of what I remembered from my previous drunken episodes, I reckoned this wouldn't be a single occurrence. So when the fit finally subsided, I rested my head against cold tiles and slept like the dead.

It was already the following night when I woke up feeling like crap but not intoxicated anymore. The peak of nausea had passed but I had a piercing headache which made me swear on my future grave that this would be the absolute last time of my immortal life I consumed alcohol. The pounding in my temples made me consider downing some painkillers, but I figured they would just upset my stomach further. Maybe I would feel better if I drank something my system was actually designed for. 

As I wandered through my small flat, I checked on the guy still collapsed in the living room. He was either sleeping or unconscious. His breathing was even and deep so I left him and scuffed to the kitchen, pulling a bottle of blood out of the fridge and sitting at the table. The curtains were closed and while I usually opened them at this hour to see the street lights and occasionally the moon and stars, I was just too worn out to do anything other than sit and sip at my drink. Who knew turning someone into a vampire would be this exhausting?

Pieces of last night started coming back. It dawned on me that I had been way too careless, leaving clues and traces behind for any homespun Sherlock to find. There was blood in the elevator, and since I had fallen asleep before cleaning it up, my neighbours must have seen it by now. Mrs. Hoffman was probably suspecting me; she always was when anything out of ordinary happened. A young man who lived all by himself, only seen after sundown, who had a night job, never participated in any neighbourhood activity... there _had_ to be something wrong with me. Occasionally, when I wasn't too fed up with her and could see humour in my situation, I would entertain myself with the thought of how badly she would freak out if she found out just how much was wrong with her neighbour.

The blood stains were one thing. Another one was the bloodied alley. Third one was the taxi driver who had seen us. He had seen where I lived. Heck, no matter how little he cared about his customers, if my guest's face suddenly appeared in the local newspaper with the caption 'Have you seen this man?' it would take the authorities two days to come and find us.

Ugh, my head hurt. I didn't want to think about this now. I took a long swig of my bottle, savouring the irony taste and the restorative effect it had on my body. Although I preferred my blood warm, the nutritional value was the same whether I drank it from the vein or bottle.

Don't ask me where I got human blood in a bottle. This is not True Blood. Vampires' takeout lunches are not sold in gas stations. There are no meals in supermarkets for creatures that don't exist. Except, you know, animals' blood but eww. Who chooses steamed broccoli in the buffet when there's filet mignon available? 

As the blood was doing its magic in my system, I could turn my attention from inside to inspect my exterior. I had dried blood underneath my nails and I was still wearing the same clothes, completely ruined. No detergent or cold water could remove the stains in them. Damn, I liked this shirt and trousers. My hair was in clumps, and I reeked of sweat and vomit. I needed to take shower but I had to make it quick, because there was no telling how my guest would react when he finally woke up.

After finishing the bottle, I went back to the bathroom, again passing the living room and checking on Mr. Hot-n-Gorgeous lying there. Just how long was he going to continue napping? Shouldn't he have woken up by now? Should I be worried? If he was still breathing after all this mayhem, didn't that mean that he was going to be okay? I leaned closer, sniffing him. There was his masculine scent, mixed with sweat and some cologne or whatever perfume he had sprayed on himself, but he didn't smell like human to me anymore. I must have succeeded.

Even lying on the floor in his own vomit, he was beautiful. It hadn't been the alcohol clouding my vision. I wondered what his name was. How old he was. Where he lived and what he did for a living.

I realized I had acted on a whim, but I didn't feel as bad about it as I should. I dreaded the moment he would wake up and find out what I had done but at the same time I couldn't wait. Couldn't wait to talk with him alone, without curious, judging eyes around us. Sit with him at the table and offer him a cold drink. Or maybe he needed more of my blood. I wasn't entirely sure how this worked. Well, I just needed to wait and find out, since there was nobody I could ask. This was not something I would contact my dad about.

I continued to the bathroom, shed my ruined clothes, relieved my bladder and stepped into the shower. I tried to be as quick as possible, but the dried blood in my hair was hard to get out, and I had to use a deep cleansing shampoo, but then that made my hair so, so dry, and so I had to use a lot of conditioner and leave it on for a couple of minutes. All the while I tried to listen to possible sounds from outside, because how embarrassing would it be if he found me in the shower, stark naked and trying to get my long hair into presentable condition?

So sue me. I take pride in my hair. It is the trait that gets me most compliments. It's naturally blond, like, very blond, almost whitish, and reflects light in the most unique way. In the sunlight it changes colour – or changed. I wouldn't know about that anymore.

Not that there is anything wrong with my face. I have a pretty face. Stand out blue eyes (at least when I haven't drunk blood), fine bone structure, a slim, proportionate body. I have inherited the best features of our family, although, I must say, I would have some serious competition in my youngest brother if he wasn't stuck being sixteen and a skinny teenager. It's funny how we're so much like, Ingo and me. Dain, my other brother, four years younger than me and three years older than Ingo, is very masculine and doesn't care about his looks. Or didn't, the last time I saw him. Takes after our father. That must be why we don't get along that well.

But no matter how awesome my face or body was, I didn't want be caught butt naked on our second encounter. That could be saved for later. Once my hair was obeying, I stepped out of the shower, picking up my bathrobe and wrapping it around me. Eyeing the pile of ruined clothes on the floor, I decided I should get a plastic back to stuff them in. A black plastic bag, not a see-through, because Mrs. Hoffman would go as far as to rummage through the garbage if she was suspecting shenanigans in our building. Which she almost always was.

I headed towards the kitchen, intending to find a suitable plastic bag, but there was a slight change of plans as I walked by the living room.

Mr. Hot-n-Gorgeous, my guest, my prey, my… _offspring_? Because I was his sire now. 

Holy hell, I had sired a new vampire!

Anyway, him. He had woken up.

I wondered if he was angry with me.

No, scratch that. I wondered _how_ angry he was. How furious. Would he kick me in the balls again or just plain out punch me in the mouth?

He had crawled to an upright position, sitting on the carpet and supporting himself with his left hand while the right one was pressed against his forehead. He probably had a headache much more severe than mine. I would have preferred to greet him in an outfit other than a bathrobe, but it was too late for that now. He heard my steps and lifted his chin, his formerly-hazel-now-red-tinted eyes widening as he saw me. I didn't know if he recognized me; he had been through a small hell after all. He might not have any recollection of the things that had happened after he had left the club. 

"Hello," I said, for the lack of anything better.

He grunted as a response, rubbing his face and looking around him, confused. I allowed him to take in his surroundings, my small but nicely furnished living room, the couch, the bookshelf, the 40'' TV, the stereo system, the stained carpet and closed curtains before the windows.

"I'm sorry for passing out on your floor. My memory is kinda hazy. I have no idea where I am. I was… I was supposed to go to my girlfriend's for the night. Did I ask to crash at your place?"

His politeness threw me off. For a brief moment I considered lying; telling that he had been assaulted by another vampire and I had just been there to save him. But the memories would come back to him sooner or later, and then he might hate me even more.

Then his words sunk in.

 _Girlfriend's_? He had a girlfriend? Then what the hell had he been doing in the club, making passes at ladies left, right and center? At least he hadn't taken anyone home with him but his girlfriend would hardly appreciate his flirty behaviour.

He didn't wait for my answer before continuing his questionnaire, "I feel really stupid but I don't remember you. Did we meet at the club?"

"Yeah, we did," I managed to say.

"Oh." He set both his palms against the floor and pushed himself to his feet. His balance was off and he must be feeling dizzy, since he took two wobbly steps before he had to grab the edge of the couch to not fall. Carefully, he turned around and sat down, closing his eyes for a moment, maybe to stop the room from spinning. "Fuck, I feel like shit. What the hell did I drink?"

_My good sir, you've drunken quite a variety of things._

I honestly didn't know how to react to his confusion. I had been prepared to defend myself if he woke up angry but not to explain to him everything that had happened. _Hey, you know what, buddy? Haha, this is a funny story, actually. I attacked you and turned you into a vampire. Yeah, sorry about that. I was drunk and wasn't thinking clearly. No, there's no cancel button._

"I should head home," he said then, but didn't lift a finger to get up from his spot. "Look, sorry to bother you so much, but you don't happen to have some painkillers, do you? My head feels like it's gonna explode."

"Um, yes, I have painkillers," I mumbled. "But I don't think it's such a good idea for you to take them now."

He looked even more confused. "Why not?"

"Because… you drank some stuff last night that might not mix well with painkillers."

His brows shot up. "I did?" I could see the question of how I knew about it floating behind his eyes. "Man, what was it?" 

"I..."

"Do you have Ibuprofen? I think it's safe."

"Yeah, I do but… your stomach might not handle it really well at the moment."

His eyes landed on the ruined carpet. "Uh, it seems I threw up quite a bit. I'm really sorry about that. I will pay your carpet wash or… buy… you…" He trailed off as he finally saw just what he had been throwing up. The stains were already dry and the blood had been diluted with alcohol but there was no mistaking it. "Oh my god, is that blood? Did I throw up blood?!"

I rubbed my neck, feeling awkward and out of place. "You did, but don't worry. It's–"

He looked bewildered. "What do you mean, don't worry? If I threw up that much blood, shouldn't I be in a hospital or something?"

"It's not only from vomiting." Like that would make him feel better.

"Am I hurt?" he asked, glancing at his arms and legs. I felt genuinely bad for him, even if all of this was my doing. It must be terrifying to wake up in a strange apartment, see a strange guy in a bathrobe, find yourself bloodied and not remember anything.

"Sort of but it's alright now," I said. "There's no need to go to a hospital."

He looked neither relieved nor convinced, staring at me from under his brows. He had spotted my fangs – I could see his eyes drifting to my mouth every now and then – but he had more urgent matters at hand than his strange host's dentition. 

"Look, could I go and change quickly?" I pointed at my clothing. "Then I'll explain everything."

"Oh, yeah, sorry, of course. Go ahead. But… could I at least have a glass of water? I'll help myself, just tell me where the kitchen is."

I swung my left hand, indicating the kitchen doorway behind me that was visible from the couch. "Right here."

"Oh, thanks... um?" He looked at me expectantly.

"Adrian."

"Thanks, Adrian." He got back up, waiting for the dizziness to pass before staggering towards the kitchen. I let him go, instead heading to the bedroom. A glass of water was hardly going to fuck up his system worse, and if he was going to kick my ass after learning the truth, I preferred to be fully clothed.

After dressing into plain jeans and a t-shirt I headed to the kitchen. Mr. Hot-n-Gorgeous was sitting at the table, holding a glass of water and sipping at it. He seemed to be deep in thought but he acknowledged my approach by lifting his head and offering a faint smile. It wasn't friendly, more like a jovial 'Sorry-for-crashing-at-your-place-odd-stranger'.

"I can't find my phone", he said. "Do you happen to know where it is?"

"It should be on the hat shelf by the front door. I brought it with us, but I'm not sure if it still works. You dropped it and the screen cracked. Hold on, I'll go get it." I wasn't sure which was worse: the phone being dead or working. If it was still functioning, he could call the police right away after finding out what I had done to him. If it was broken, his girlfriend or other people would get worried when they couldn't reach him.

"You... brought it with us?"

"Yeah, I mean, you weren't exactly in the shape to make decisions yourself."

His confusion deepened. "I've never lost my memory before because of drinking. Did someone put something in my drink? A date rape drug?"

"No, nothing like that. Hold on, I'll go get your phone." I hurried to the entryway and found his phone on the hat shelf where I had dumped it after dragging my unconscious guest in. The screen was badly cracked, black and mute.

I took the device to the kitchen. He accepted it with a small 'thanks' and tried to turn it on. "It's either broken or the battery is out. Could I borrow your charger, please?"

"I don't have a charger for that kind of a phone."

He lifted his chin. "You don't?"

"No, I have an old Nokia."

"Really?" There was a hint of amusement in his voice but it disappeared along with his next sentence. "Well then, I really should get going. My girlfriend must be worried sick by now."

I was alarmed. I couldn't let him go. Had he forgotten about me explaining to him what had happened? What had happened to his worry about throwing up blood? Was the girlfriend more important than his health? Or was he simply so confused that he kept switching between topics and didn't seem as shaken as he should have been? Maybe he was just a good actor.

"Um, don't you want to hear what happened?"

"Yeah, I do, but I think it can wait until I've contacted my girlfriend and told her I'm safe. And that I'm not with some other girl." He chuckled a bit. "Besides, I think I do remember a little bit. I remember you now."

I felt like a bucket of ice cold water had been poured onto me. "You... do?"

"Yeah, we met at the club, didn't we? You, uh, you came to talk to me and I... said I'm not gay." 

Oh, was that the only thing he remembered?

"Still, I have no idea how I ended up at your place. I mean, you didn't drug me, did you?" He kept his tone light, trying to pass it off as a joke but at the same time he was waiting for an answer. And what could I say to that? Had I drugged him? Sort of, if vampire venom counted as drug. Maybe not exactly a date rape drug but...

"Listen, I really need to talk to you," I said, pulling out a chair and sitting down opposite of him. "Maybe... maybe you could send your girlfriend a message with my phone and tell her you're alright?"

"Oh, yeah, that could work but I'm not sure if I remember her number." He flashed a sheepish smile. "Don't care to memorize numbers anymore since, you know, you can just add them into your phone."

I wouldn't know about that. I still remember all the important numbers of my childhood and youth. "Well, if you do remember it, you should tell her that you're going to meet her when you have sorted things out. You can't go out looking like that," I pointed out.

"I look that bad? Damn. Do you have a mirror?"

"Yeah, in the bathroom."

Contrary to a popular belief, vampires do have a reflection. I mean, dead bodies have a reflection, so why wouldn't we? We're not ghosts. We exist.

I would have been mortified to not be able to look myself in a mirror. It would be beyond embarrassing to have to go out without checking how you look.

As Mr. Hot-n-Gorgeous (why hadn't he told me his name already? I had told him mine!) got up and walked past me, I checked him for vampiric features. His eyes still had that hue of red because of the foreign blood in his system but his ears were not yet pointed nor did he have fangs. I assumed they would grow in the following couple of days. My bite marks were still visible in his neck. They had started to close up but his healing abilities were not yet on the level of a vampire. 

I heard him open the bathroom door and took a deep sigh. I was pretty sure the easy days were now over. Even if he didn't remember anything, he would see the puncture marks on both sides of his neck, and it didn't take a genius to put two and two together when your host happened to have needle-sharp canines in his mouth. He would see the bloody pile of clothes on the bathroom floor. Shit was about to hit the fan and it would hit it so hard that even my ruined carpet and clothes would seem like sleeping dust bunnies underneath a bed.

I braced myself. 

The storm never came. Instead, there was a silence that seemed to last forever. I began getting restless, fidgeting in my seat and twisting my fingers nervously. What the hell was he doing in there? 

And what were my options? There weren't many.

I peeked up when I finally heard steps. They were heavy and determined, stomping across the floor with such force that Mrs. Hoffman was bound to have another reason to file an official complaint. After all, it was past ten and even though there were two floors between us, she claimed she could hear me heel walking around my apartment throughout the nights.

My guest stopped at the kitchen door. I could see a bunch of mixed emotion crisscrossing his face. I could also see that he had realized, maybe even remembered, that his night out had been even more eventful than he had initially thought. He had cleaned up his neck as best as he could and was pressing his hand against the right side, covering the marks. His eyes landed on me, questioning and demanding answers, _accusing_. It was the same gaze I had seen in the alley before he lost his consciousness.

"Okay, you better explain and the explanation better be fucking good."


	3. Chapter 3

His adamant stare made the severity of the situation dawn on me.

What had I been thinking, turning a straight man into a vampire in hopes of getting a companion out of him? I was despicable. 

But there was no crying over spilt milk. Or blood, in this case. There was no reverse button. All I could do now was damage control.

"Why don't you take a seat?" I suggested, nodding towards his abandoned chair.

"No, I think I'd rather stand."

"You're still weak and this... this might shock you a bit."

"Really now?" His tone was bitter and sarcastic. "It might shock me to find out why I have puncture marks on both sides of my neck? Who would have thought?"

I didn't like this sarcastic side of him. I wanted him back to polite and confused.

But hot damn, was he still gorgeous!

Like, you know, on a side note.

He pointed at his collar. "I look like something out of the fucking Saw movies!"

He did, handsomeness aside. I almost snorted, just because I was so nervous. How was I supposed to explain everything to him in a manner that wouldn't lead to him trying to kill me? I didn't have any good lines prepared.

"And I have a feeling you have something to do with it. My neck looks like something or _someone_ has bitten into it." He glanced at my mouth meaningfully.

_Just tell him it was some other vampire! If the memories have not come back until now, it could be that they never will._

_But I might be stuck with him for eternity. Do I want to live in a lie?_

_Oh god, who cares? If you tell him the truth, your chances of getting a companion out of him will be even slimmer._

"Yes, me," I heard myself say. "I bit into your neck."

_You're on the next level of stupidity, aren't you?_

He reeled back as if I had slapped him, his mouth agape. My revelation didn't come as a surprise, but he hadn't been prepared for such a direct, honest answer. "What the hell?" he managed to splutter. "But... _why_?"

"You sure you don't want to sit down?"

He scanned the kitchen, perhaps searching for any questionable items or estimating how he would get past me if he chose to sit down. When he didn't seem to make up his mind, I got up and took the seat closest to the window, leaving him the chair near the doorway. He eyed me with suspicion but he must have realized that if I was a serial killer (hold on, I sort of was) or was planning to torture him, I would have tied him down already. So in the end he took the chair, sitting down with caution and facing sideways so he could dash for the door, if I showed any violent tendencies, and looked at me expectantly. 

"So basically..." I began but then snapped my mouth shut. I mean, how do you explain this kind of thing? Never before had I had to tell someone I was a vampire; it's something I usually try to keep secret. There probably wasn't a sugar-coated way out of it. "The thing is... I bit you because... I'm a vampire."

He just stared at me, his expression blank.

"So... that's why. Because that's what vampires do," I muttered.

"You think you're a vampire?" His tone suggested that I needed to get my medication sorted out. I should have seen it coming.

"No, I _am_ a vampire."

"You believe you're a vampire?"

This could become a very long conversation. "No, I am a vampire. And so are you. Or at least will be... in the near future."

"Do you have any idea how ridiculous that sounds?"

"I did, like 40 years ago."

His forehead scrunched up as he tried to process my words. "I have to admit that you have quite a realistic-looking bloodsucker cosplay thing going on with those teeth and all, but it still doesn't mean that I believe you. If that is all you have to say to me, I'm gonna go and get myself checked. God knows what kind of freaky diseases you have given to me." He placed his palm on the table, intending to stand up.

I jumped upright. "No, you can't go!"

"Of course I can. I have to start an emergency treatment in case you have HIV or rabies or something."

This could become a very long and _very frustrating_ conversation. I realized how useless my claims where at this point in the game. He probably didn't feel a lot of like a vampire yet. Later, when he had grown fangs and pointed tips to his ears and his night vision had started working, this conversation would be much more fruitful. Now my words were falling on deaf ears. "I don't have HIV or rabies. I can't catch human diseases. Okay, maybe occasionally a flu but nothing like HIV. I am a vampire, I'm practically immortal."

"Sure you are, Edward Cullen. I'm going." He pushed himself up.

There was not much I could do to prevent him from going except for maybe chaining him to a radiator but that wouldn't have been a very nice start to our companionship.

_And you think your previous actions were?_

_No, but they were necessary._

"But you can't go to a hospital! They can't help you there!"

He ignored my cry, turning his back on me and heading to the front door. I sat for three long seconds before bolting up and going after him.

He didn't dare me to try to stop him, but his eyes said it all. He was going whether I tried to prevent it or not, and he was ready for a physical combat if it came to that. I could see that he thought he could easily take me, my frame being a lot skinnier and my complexion so pale that I had to be weakened by some mysterious illness. For now I let him keep his illusion.

When I didn't try to grab him, he took his jacket from the rack and inspected it with a mild shock. "I see you've destroyed my jacket as well."

"I can pay for it."

"Yeah, I don't think I want to bother with you even for that much. It's an old jacket. But," he said sternly, fixing his eyes on me, "you will hear from me if I've caught some nasty disease from you."

"You haven't. Well, apart from the vampire thing."

He looked at me like you would look a stubborn child who claims that their teddy bear is alive. "Sure. I'm going now. I recommend for you to get your shit together. Maybe get your head checked or something."

I grimaced as the door slammed after him so hard that Mrs. Hoffman would have yet another reason to complain. 

For a brief second it crossed my mind to run after him and try to coax him into coming back, but I knew it wouldn't change anything. He saw me as a lunatic who in his I-am-an-immortal-bloodsucker delirium had attacked him, and now he was in danger of getting a serious infection. He would go to the hospital to get himself checked, he would have his injuries bandaged and he would get some antibiotics which would lead to another episode of hard vomiting. He would tell the doctors that he had been bitten by a madman. And he would probably report me to the police as well. He knew my address. Even if he didn't feel like reporting me, I wasn't sure what the policy of the hospital was; were they permitted to contact the authorities without the victim's request? I couldn't imagine a situation where he wouldn't want to report me, unless he soon realized I had told the truth and he had enough sense in his head to come back to me instead of the police.

Just fucking perfect. What the hell was I supposed to do now? I couldn't really Google it, now, could I? _'What to do when you've turned someone into a vampire and they have escaped and are going to report you to the authorities?'_ Even if I knew how to use that thing.

Anyway, the situation screamed for some Class A advice from a Class A advisor and I had only one person I could call.

I found my phone on the kitchen counter and dialled one of the few contacts saved to it.

On the first try nobody answered so I disconnected and tried again. I waited for twenty something rings before somebody picked up.

"Hello?" 

I had hoped for another sibling but of course luck wasn't on my side. Well, at least it wasn't Dad. "Dain, it's me."

"Oh. To what do we owe the pleasure?" He didn't sound surprised, but rather disappointed. I could practically see him leaning against the old dresser in the lobby as he examined his nails.

"I'd like to speak to Breena. Is she in?"

He hesitated for a moment but figured that I would find a way to contact our sister even if he didn't want to pass on the phone to her. It was not like he was personally against it – I don't think he would have given a shit, had it not been for our father. "I'll check," he said. By the immediate silence that followed I assumed that he had left the handset on the table and gone to look for her. I wouldn't call him a man of few words, but nowadays he doesn't have much to say to me.

It was a long wait. The mansion was big. It might take him a while to locate her. And he might just go to the bathroom or have a snack or something before actually doing what he was supposed to, just because he was a late-pubescent asshole.

I kept my eyes on the clock, watched the second hand tick along its path. It was almost midnight. I wondered if my guest had taken a taxi and was now on his way to the ER. Or did he go to meet his girlfriend first, maybe take her along to the hospital? What would he say to her? That a gay freak who believed to be a vampire had attacked him, bitten him and kidnapped him, and now he needed to get himself checked in case the nutcase had some sort of contagious disease?

"Hi, Adrian." I jumped a little when I heard Breena's voice. It had taken my idiot brother three whole minutes to fetch her. I was pretty sure he thought that I had to pay for every minute I stayed on the phone, but I had a plan with unlimited calls and texts. I had no idea why, though, it's not like used the device that much. I just hadn't gotten myself to call the operator and change the plan, because that would have required me to wake up during the daytime.

"Hey, sis."

"Is something the matter?" 

Her question surprised me. Had I sounded alarmed talking to Dain? I didn't only call my sister in cases of emergency. Usually I just wanted to chat with someone who was on the same wavelength as I.

I considered putting on a nonchalant façade for a minute or two but when I heard her voice, something broke inside me and suddenly I was the baby brother that needed comforting (it didn't matter that she was the younger one; she was mentally more mature). 

"Breena, I've done something stupid," I whined.

"You have? What is it?" She didn't sound like she thought I was in trouble. Then again, she never did. She was always the calm one, seeing the way out of even the trickiest situation. But I had never done anything quite like this. I had never been in so much trouble – even though I wasn't sure yet just how much trouble was heading my way.

I told her. I began with the encounter in the club, told her I had been drunk, described what Mr. Hot-n-Gorgeous looked like and how he had been flirting with half of the club, even gave some details of the alley and then finished the story with a quick, breathless _And-then-I-attacked-him-and-turned-him-into-a-vampire-and-oh-my-god-it-was-so-messy-I-have-to-throw-away-all-my-clothes-and-my-carpet!_

Breena was silent for a while. I could hear her breathing. I tried to read it but got nothing. She didn't sigh or hold her breath. 

"You're right," she said eventually. "That was stupid. Very stupid."

"I know," I whimpered.

"But I kinda understand you."

I almost dropped the phone. "Y-you do?"

"Yeah, I mean, I can understand your need for a partner. To tell you the truth, I've sort of anticipated this."

"You have?"

"Yeah." 

Damn, she had seen it coming? It was something my sister could imagine happening. Didn't that mean that I shouldn't feel _too_ guilty? 

Before I could sink into a thin cloud of relief, she continued, "But couldn't you have tried to find someone who is actually gay? Like someone who was attracted to you and would have been okay with getting turned into a vampire."

I scratched my scalp. "Are there such people?"

"Come on, you're not that bad-looking."

"Fuck you, this is serious."

Breena chuckled, that evil being of a sister. "Alright, but you know, there has to be at least one gay man who is interested in eternal life."

"But how would I find him? Hand out flyers and confront people in the streets? 'Excuse me, sir, but do you have time to talk about eternal life?' They would take me as a religious preacher."

Breena hummed. "Yes, I can see it would be quite arduous. But that's not really an option anymore, is it? So... just go on with your story. You turned him into a vampire and then what? Where is he now?"

"He fled."

"Hmm, that was expected too. Do you know where he might have gone?"

"He mentioned getting checked at a hospital."

"Uh, that might be a problem."

I could hear my voice strangling in my throat and coming out barely a wheeze, "I know."

"Why didn't you stop him?"

"That wouldn't have looked very good."

"Maybe not, but it was an emergency. He would have understood after he had fully transformed. I assume that he hadn't, since he just left."

"He hadn't but... do you mean that he would have stayed if he had been fully transformed?"

"Yes, I think he would have wanted some answers and you're the only one who can give them to him. I'm sure he'll come back."

"How can you be sure?"

"He'll be drawn to you. You know there's the bond between a vampire and their sire."

"Yes, I know, but... it's not something you _can't_ resist." I could resist it. During the years separated from my father, I had felt it slowly fade into something like a tiny whisper in the back corner of my skull. Something I could ignore most of the time. It would probably jump onto the stage when I'd meet him (which I wasn't planning to do, like, ever) but for now I was good.

"Trust me, he'll come back to you."

"Okay, I trust you, but what about the damage he'll cause before he comes to his senses?"

"That's what I'm worried about."

I had hoped Breena had some mysterious solution to the problem – that was her eternal trick of calming me down – but apparently this time she didn't. I had messed up real bad.

"Do you know how long the transformation takes?" I asked.

"I'm not sure. It might be a bit different for everyone. I assume you don't want me to ask Dad?"

"No, I don't want you to ask anyone. Unless you have a friend who knows and you could ask them in a way that wouldn't make them suspicious."

"I think Angela might know, but your comrade will probably return before I can get in touch with her."

"God damn you fossils. Why can't you get mobile phones?" _Note to self: get Breena a mobile phone for her birthday._

"Come on, at least we have a landline phone. The Willems don't even have that."

 _This_ is what I meant when I said that most vampires are very old-fashioned and conservative.

"If you can think of someone who would know about it and would be easily contactable, I'd appreciate it if you asked. But please don't tell anyone what I did." I could only hope Dain had not lingered around to listen to our phone call. I didn't think he'd be interested enough but he was a bastard.

"I won't but it's bound to come out sooner or later."

"Yeah, but just, not for now."

"I'm not going to tell anyone."

"Thanks, sis."

"Anytime, brother," she sounded like she was going to hang up and I panicked. I hadn't calmed down yet.

"Wait, wait!"

"Hmm?"

"What do I do now? What if the police show up?"

"You can't really do much. Just stay at home and wait for him. If someone else shows up, don't let them in."

"What if they break down the door?"

"I don't think the police can get a search warrant so soon. If you don't open up, they'll probably just think you're out and wait for you to come back."

I wasn't convinced, but there was not much else I could do besides hope that Mr. Hot-n-Gorgeous would realize what was happening to him before he went to the police. Oh, but I needed to get some more blood into my fridge! I was running low and I knew he was going to be hungry when he returned. Hungry and confused. I didn't know whether he required more of my blood or if any kind would do, but in any case I needed to stock up.

"Adrian?" Breena asked when I said nothing. "Just calm down and wait for him. I'm sure the situation will be... patchable even if he does go to the police."

I huffed. "Okay... okay."

"You going to be alright now?"

"I don't know." I didn't feel like it. The panic was swimming beneath my skin, making my stomach churn and my head feel light. I didn't want to end the call. I wanted to keep listening to Breena's calming voice until Mr. Hot-n-Gorgeous returned. "The whole thing is so... messy. I'm never ever going to drink again, not even feed on a human who has been drinking..."

"You're going to be alright," she said, ignoring my mumbling. "Come on, go and take a hot bath or something while you wait."

"I took a shower fifteen minutes ago."

"Then lie down on the couch and put on a funny movie."

Like I could concentrate on anything besides my messed-up life. But I knew that considering all the facts, it was the best advice Breena could come up with, so I muttered something that could be interpreted as an affirmative.

"Let me know how things proceed, okay?"

"I will."

"Talk to you soon."

"Yeah. Bye."

After hanging up, I felt slightly better, despite everything. I had to take Breena's word for it that things would turn out alright, because that was all I had for now. But lying down and doing nothing would just make me more anxious.

I went to the bathroom to blow dry my hair. I didn't think my nightly guest was going to return very soon, but just in case he did, I wanted to make it quick. Not paying as much attention to my hair as usual, I left it a bit frizzy and simply tied it back to keep it out of my face. Then I went to put some clothes on, rummaging through my closet for another long coat (not as nice as the one I had had to discard but a pretty stylish one all the same). I tended to leave my phone home when I went out, call it a habit or a remnant from my youth, but tonight I felt it would give me extra comfort and I slipped it into my pocket before exiting the apartment.

The elevator was spotless when I stepped into it. Not a droplet of rusty red in sight. I couldn't even detect the smell of blood; the small space was full of a strong chemical stench. Bleach or something. And there was a note on the mirror. 

_'Please clean up after yourself!!!'_

Oh the joy of caring neighbours.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so happy at least a few people are reading this story! I hope you guys enjoy this update!

Something yanked me out of my slumber.

I stirred and blinked, fighting to stay awake long enough to figure out what had alarmed me. What time was it? Was it still daytime or had darkness already fallen? Where even was I? And why the fuck was I so disoriented? 

I found that I was safely tucked in my bed, although it seemed that I had had quite a wild sleep. The blanket was hanging over the edge of the bed and only covering my middle section, and my pillow had been thrown to the floor. I peered towards the window and saw a glow behind the thick blackout curtains. It looked like the time was somewhere between dawn and early noon, the golden rays still low and burning hot. One of the impractical features of my apartment was the fact that my bedroom window was facing the east. The stupid flat was so small that there was no chance of changing the rooms, and I considered myself to be above sleeping on the kitchen floor. Maybe I should just find a new place – something with a more suitable floor plan and without nosy neighbours. Now I had an even more pressing reason to do so, since I might get a visit from the authorities soon.

The doorbell chimed, making me jump.

Only Mrs. Hoffman had the tendency to show up uninvited, but even that only happened once every six months or so (usually she settled for leaving sarcastic notes in mailboxes or lurking behind her door, listening to the sounds from the hallway and slamming the door open once the unsuspecting victim was walking past her apartment).

I yanked the blanket up to my chest, wondering what the hell was going on and trying to banish the sleep from my brain.

It could be him.

Or it could be Mrs. Hoffman. Or the police.

With my heart beating out of my chest, I wondered if I should get up and check who was at my door. I wasn't sure which one I hoped for out of the three possible options. I needed Mr. Hot-n-Gorgeous to come back but I didn't think I was ready to face him, having just woken up. It probably wasn't even him. He should have transformed by now, so there was no way he could walk in broad daylight. 

I fell back on the bed, pulling the blanket up to my chin and intending to go back to sleep. I didn't feel like opening the door to anyone else.

A long, piercing, I-know-you're-there-so-open-the-fucking-door ring sounded through the apartment, making me jump again.

I decided I should go and check after all, before I found out whether vampires could die of a heart attack. Or just see if it was possible to mute the stupid doorbell.

Reaching over the edge of the bed, I fumbled around the floor for my clothes. As I pulled a t-shirt over my head, I heard yet another adamant ring. It was starting to piss me off. If it was Mrs. Hoffman, I would give her a piece of my mind. Ask her why she found it necessary to disturb a hard working man when he had just returned from his night shift.

I found my sweatpants and pulled them on too, for once not caring whether I looked presentable or not. The disturber needed to see which part of the 24-hour clock I was living and feel bad for waking me up.

But as I shuffled to the door and glanced through the peephole, my anger dissipated.

Dark brown hair, handsome features, large sunglasses sitting on the edge of his nose.

Gaah, it was him!

A small sparkle of joy exploded in my chest but was quickly replaced with a pang of nausea and anxiety.

Mr. Hot-n-Gorgeous had returned and I was dressed like someone out of a 90's gym catalogue. Shit, _shit!_ I didn't have time to change. Besides, since I had skipped a couple of steps of my hair care routine yesterday, my crown was a shaggy mess and taming it would take at least half an hour. He might walk away if I didn't open up soon.

So I turned the key and pulled the door open. I didn't have time to put on a casual exterior or even greet him, because right after the door was out of the way, he stepped inside, pushing me aside with his shoulder. He was wearing thin, white gloves and carrying a closed umbrella. There were thick bandages on both sides of his neck. 

I had no idea what to say to him. 'Hello, welcome back' sounded too sarcastic. He didn't even seem to want any greetings from me. As I leaned to close the door, I caught his smell, taking note that it had changed even further. I still detected his original masculine scent, but any traces of humanity had left him. He smelled like one of my kind.

"You," he began, pushing the sunglasses up to rest them on his forehead, "owe me an explanation."

Well, I had already explained it once but... which issue did he want explained? The fact that he couldn't walk outside in the sun anymore? That he couldn't digest his favourite take-out Chinese? That he was thirsty and no amount of water could satisfy him?

I would have offered him a glass of blood right away, but I didn't think he was ready for it. All the same, I waved my hand towards the kitchen. "Want to go and sit down?"

"Actually, I want to _punch_ you but I doubt that would help." As he spoke, I saw long canines in his mouth. He hadn't gotten used to his dentition yet, and there was a slight lisp in his speech. He seemed very frustrated by it, opening his mouth wider than necessary. An involuntary shudder spiralled down my spine as I imagined what those sharp tips would feel like against my skin.

_You do know that's pretty twisted, right? Thinking with your dick when he has had his whole life turned upside down. Maybe you should show some compassion?_

_Shut up, I'm only human! Or you know, a vampire._

The downside – if you wanted to see it as that – of getting turned into a vampire at a young age was that you would be stuck in that phase forever. I was stuck being a young adult male and having the urges of one. It could have been worse, though. I didn't envy my brothers. Dain especially must have cursed his fate from here to eternity.

Or maybe not. He didn't seem like a very sexual person in nature. He was more interested in pissing everyone off than luring them into his bed.

Ugh, enough thinking about my brother's sexuality. My guest had just offered to break my facial bones, and I had yet to answer him.

"Um, yeah, I don't think punching me would help either of us..."

"It would probably still make me feel better," he noted, like he was actually considering it.

"Let's just go to the kitchen," I suggested, taking a few steps towards the said room. I hadn't bothered turning any lights on, so the apartment was pretty dark, only lit by the odd rays of sun sneaking in between the curtains. I was sure my guest could already see as well as I did.

He took off his jacket (it was different than the one I had ruined) and hung it on the rack, which, I assumed, meant that he expected stay a while. I took it as a good sign, although I knew the ride was going to be bumpy. His demeanour radiated suppressed anger and frustration. It had to take him quite a bit of self-control to not drive his fist into my face. I hesitated to turn my back on him, but walking backwards would look very stupid, almost provoking, so I spun on my heels and wandered off to the kitchen. He followed, keeping a good metre between us.

The kitchen was so dark that despite our night vision, I turned the counter lights on. We took the same seats as before, I beside the window and he near the door. I found myself twisting my fingers and wondering what I should say. 'I told you so' was totally out of the question.

Luckily he had already decided on our topic. "You have any idea what happened when I tried to leave my apartment this morning to go to work?"

"Uh, I have a pretty good idea, actually."

Ignoring me, he pulled off his gloves, lifted his right hand and leaned forward to shove it under my nose. "See this?"

I already knew what I was going to see. Angry red skin with blisters scattered around the back of his hand and wrist. The area was smaller than I had anticipated, so he must have been wearing long sleeves. It was already healing. In an hour or two the skin would have reached the state of itching and peeling, and tomorrow there wouldn't be a trace left. I also took notice of his nails – their sharpness and dark tips. I tended to clip mine when I needed to socialize with humans, but they grew back within a day or two.

"I see it. It should heal quickly if you just avoid the sun." It was rather reckless of him, going outside in the daylight even with his concealing clothes, umbrella and shades.

"That's not the point," he snapped, his voice strained and his gaze piercing. The red hue of his eyes had disappeared but there was sharp glint that hadn't been present before. "The point is why did this happen! Care to explain again, Mr. Cullen?"

"It's simple. You can't stay in the sunlight anymore."

This time he didn't immediately deny my claim. Instead, he inspected my dishevelled look with furrowed brows, as if he was seeing me for the first time. "Were you asleep?" By his surprised tone I assumed it was quite late for humans to be in bed on Monday. Or was it Tuesday already? The last days had been a bit of a haze. Peeking over my shoulder, I checked the clock on the wall. Half past nine. Maybe for someone in their prime working age it was unusual to be still sleeping at this hour.

"I was."

"What time do you usually get up?"

_Why? So you can come back then? It's too late to start being polite._

"Around seven." His expression was confused, so I added, "P.m. You know, when it gets dark."

"So you..?" He paused, maybe not sure what he was about to ask and went back to our actual topic. "What the hell is going on? My skin blistered the minute I stepped outside and I have a hunch that you have something to do with it."

I huffed. "You already know I do."

"So your explanation is that you're a vampire?" he deadpanned.

"Shouldn't it be obvious to you too by now?" I nodded towards his appearance. It wasn't every day that you decided to grow pointy ears, long, sharp canines and your skin suddenly developed a serious allergy to the sun. "Have you tried eating anything?"

"I did," he admitted. "A toast with some butter, ham and cheese. And my normal morning coffee."

"And? What happened?"

He eyed me warily, not liking the sudden reversal of our roles. Suddenly I was the interrogator; I had the upper hand, even though he had come here with the intention of confronting _me_ for my crimes. "I suppose you already know my answer to that too."

"You threw up?"

He didn't reply, but his sore expression gave him away. Well, it didn't take a Sherlock to figure it out.

"You are thirsty but water doesn't help? You went out and burned yourself? Your appearances have changed, and all of a sudden you can see well in the dark? You can smell things you didn't know about before?"

When he just kept staring at me, I huffed again, my shoulders slumping. "You know what? This conversation would be much less frustrating if you just believed me. Then we could start… helping you adjust to your new life."

"Alright," he said defensibly, crossing his arms across his chest. "Let's pretend for a while that I believe you. Then what? I want to know how to get back to normal."

"You can't. Once you turn into a vampire, there's no going back to being human."

He didn't believe me. I could relate to that. I had been sceptical in the beginning, since, for starters, vampires didn't exist, and in general, a mind has a tendency to block out things that exceed its capacity. That's how people survive trauma.

When he said nothing, I continued, "Did you go to a hospital?"

"I did, as you can see," he said, pointing at his neck. "They patched me up and gave me a tetanus shot and some antibiotics."

Ugh, that tetanus shot made it sound like I was some wild animal that had attacked him. He probably saw me as one. "Are you taking them now?"

"I did but I threw them up as well."

"Figures. Our system is not designed for human medicines – or rather human medicines are not designed for us. The occasional painkiller is fine but anything stronger fucks up our stomachs. I told you before but I'm going to tell you again: you haven't caught any diseases from me apart from the vampire thing, but I don't think it can be called a disease. Did they say anything to you in the hospital?" _Meaning, am I to expect the police at my door any minute now?_

"They ran some tests but not all the results have come back yet." The ones that had come had been clear. If there had been something, he would have thrown it into my face by now.

"Did you tell them what happened?"

"Of course I did. Why should I have lied? To protect you?"

No, I didn't see that happening. "Did you… um, did you go to the police?"

He hesitated. "Not yet."

That evoked a huge sigh of relief from me. Maybe not all hope was lost yet.

"I… I began feeling so crappy after leaving the hospital that I was going to rest for a while and go afterwards, but then I woke up like this and thought that…"

"That maybe you should talk to me first," I finished. "I'm glad you didn't go to the police. Makes things way less complicated."

"I can still go," he pointed out. "It's not like I have forgotten what you did."

"I know you haven't but please hear me out first."

He wiped his face with his hands, groaning faintly. "Just what the hell is this? I should be at work right now, you know? Instead, I'm sitting in some queer wannabe-vampire's kitchen and listening to his delusions. This is so not fucking funny."

I reckoned he only said 'delusions' out of defence, not because he still refused to believe that there was a grain of truth in my words.

"Look, why don't we start anew?" I said. "Can I offer you a drink? I mean something that can actually satisfy your thirst." Not waiting for an answer, I got up and went to the fridge, pulling out a bottle. I opened it and poured him a glass.

"Is that what I think it is?" he asked, his lip curling up in disgust. However, the gesture was betrayed by the slightest flare of his nostrils as he smelled the crimson liquid.

"It's animal blood."

He looked at me pointedly. "No, it's not."

"Yeah, it's not." I set the glass in front of him and went back to my seat. I didn't urge him to drink; I wanted to wait until the scent broke his willpower. If I had had to make a bet, I would have put my money on ten, fifteen minutes tops. "So," I continued, trying to sound conversational, as if it were two new acquaintances talking about everyday stuff. "What's your name, or should I just call you Mr. Hot-n-Gorgeous?"

"No," he muttered, a bit put off by the nickname. "It's Tristan." His attention kept drifting to the glass in front of him. Occasionally he managed to concentrate on something else, but every time, his eyes ended up back on the drink. Oh, did I know the lure of blood. It was on its worst when you had just transformed. Luckily for my guest, his drink wasn't fresh and warm. He could have had a much harder time controlling himself.

"That's a cool name."

He sneered. "I'd prefer something more ordinary, like Alex or Sebastian."

"But everyone is called Alex or Sebastian. You stand out from the lot."

"Still. My name just sounds like a character from the Arthurian Legend."

 _Maybe because it is just that._ I shrugged. "I like it."

With great effort, he managed to peel his eyes from the glass to glance at me. "What's yours?"

"I told you my name before."

"Yeah, you did. I didn't care to memorize it." He didn't apologize. I wasn't expecting it.

"I'm Adrian."

He repeated it. "You're not from around here, are you?"

I didn't know if he could tell from my accent or the way I pronounced my name. "No, I'm Dutch."

"Oh."

"Uh-huh."

Silence. His gaze drifted back to the glass. _Just fucking drink it_ , I wanted to scream but held my tongue. He was debating with himself, clearly thrown off by the powerful need to gulp down the blood. There was also the shift in his worldview obscuring his judgment as he was forced to ponder my words again. He had accepted that something had changed within him, but he was still unwilling to accept what that something was.

"So…" he said after a long while. "Let me just sum up what you are trying to tell me. I need to… organize my thoughts a bit."

I nodded, encouraging him to go on.

"But remember, this is what _you_ have told me, I'm not yet commenting whether I believe it or not. So, we met at the club, you came on to me but I turned you down because I'm not gay. You got pissed off and decided to get back at me by–"

"Okay, _no_. That's not how it went. It wasn't out of revenge or anything. I didn't hold it against you. I was just…" _…drunk off my ass._

Damn, that sounded bad, didn't it?

"Well, it certainly looks like that to me," said Tristan, formerly known as Mr. Hot-n-Gorgeous. It was probably time to drop the nickname. "Why the hell would you have chosen me otherwise?"

"I was just interested in you, is all."

"And couldn't take no for an answer?"

Um… yeah, I could see how he had come into that conclusion.

"Let me continue," he said. "Whatever your motive was, you attacked me, bit into my neck – both sides, if I may remind you – sucked my fucking blood until I fainted, then you dragged me into your place and… turned me into a vampire." I could see him struggling to voice the last bit.

"That's pretty much how it happened, apart from my motive."

He was getting worked up, gritting his teeth and his hands balling into fists. "I'm trying very hard to understand why the hell this has happened to me when I have a perfectly nice life, a decent job, a pretty girlfriend – she was so shocked she had to take sedatives, by the way ¬– but what I _don't_ have is time for this kind of bullshit. I'm struggling to understand why someone like you is not locked up, out of the normal people's way. You're clearly dangerous to your surroundings."

I ignored the sting of hurt. His life had been completely ruined. He had a right to be upset. I needed to keep my composure if I wanted to get through to him. Acting up would get me nowhere. "It's very difficult for humans to catch vampires. We are always one step ahead of them. We have better senses and reflexes. We are faster and stronger. We know how to hide."

"I know your fucking address. I could report you right now." He pulled out his phone, waving it in his hand. The screen was still cracked, but the device seemed to work.

"By the time the police got here, I would have disappeared." Except that I wouldn't, at least not completely. All my stuff, my movie collection, my clothes, my music albums, photos… everything was here and I wasn't very keen on leaving it behind. "Besides, you're in the same boat as me now. If you reported me, you'd be reporting yourself, too."

"I'm not the one who assaults innocent people on their way home!"

"Not yet, but give it a few weeks!" I took notice that my voice was climbing up to match his angry tone. So much for not acting up.

"What the hell gives you the right to ruin other people's lives?"

"I was hungry!" I hadn't been. "A vampire's got to eat!"

"Then why didn't you just kill me? You could have sucked me dry and not make me drink your blood or whatever it is that you do to turn someone into a vampire! This is a fucking… huge load of crap!" He was rising from his seat, his nails digging into the edge of the table, knuckles turning white.

"I wanted to give you another chance!" I also got up, staying at eye level with him. "Not everyone gets that! And you know what? I also got hurt during that night!"

"That fucking served you right! You should get very hurt for what you do to people! For what you did to me! You attacked me, bit me and sucked my blood!"

"Well, you kicked me in the nuts!" 

He was gaping at me, the epitome of 'Are you fucking serious?' "You turned me into a vampire!"

"Even so! You don't kick another guy in the balls, no matter what!"

"I'm gonna kick you in your gay vampire balls right now and not even bat an eye when you drop onto the floor howling in agony! Then I'm going to call the authorities and have them tie you down in the direct sunlight so you'll burn and turn into ash!"

Ouch. That was a nasty thing to say. I had no immediate comeback for that. I didn't know if he was expecting one. He seemed a bit baffled by his own words – like this was the first time he'd ever said something like that to another person. Slowly, I sat back down, my eyes turning away from his fury.

"You can't tell anyone about this," I said.

My calmer tone made him lower his volume too. His anger didn't subside, though. "I already told people, remember?"

"I thought you told the doctors that you were attacked by a lunatic. Have you said something about vampires?"

"Well, I said it was a lunatic who thinks he's a vampire."

"That's different."

"I also told my girlfriend."

"Yeah, but it was the same story, wasn't it? Has she seen you like… this?"

"No, I spent last night alone at my own place."

Good. At least there was that.

"Is…" he hesitated. "Is there a way to prove that I am… what you say I am?"

"What more proof do you need? I mean, have you looked at yourself in the mirror?"

"I have! What makes you think I would have come back here if I hadn't? And that's one thing: vampires shouldn't have a reflection in the mirror. They shouldn't show in photos but I took a selfie this morning and it turned out normal." He grabbed his phone and turned the cracked screen towards me. Oh, that was a nice picture, actually, even though it was clear that he had just woken up. I liked his tousled hair and sleepy appearance. I wouldn't have minded waking up next to that. But it wasn't going to happen anytime soon, was it? Even if I somehow managed to get on relatively good terms with him, it was delusional to think that we would end up as lovers. But a guy can dream. Like, how those strong arms would feel around me, or that determined chin pressed against my shoulder, or those narrow but muscular hips grinding against my backside…

His dick was probably massive. He was so tall and masculine that he simply had to have a matching package, one of those you usually only saw in porn movies.

_Not that it matters, since you’re never going to get within arm’s reach of it, huge or not._

"Come on, say something! Why are you just staring like a retarded zombie?" Tristan's expression had grown suspicious. I didn't blame him. I had been mutely ogling at his photo for 20 seconds or something. He pulled the phone back, hiding it in his pocket. Reluctantly, I lifted my eyes to meet his.

"That's a myth. Vampires do have a reflection," I said, trying to sound like I hadn't been thinking about the contents of his pants.

"So that won't do as proof."

"No. But… why don't you just drink that?" I nodded towards the glass. "I know you want to."

His self-restrain was remarkable, I had to give him that, but he did want to drink the blood, he knew it, and that scared the sweet Jesus out of him. He still didn't touch the glass, merely eyeing it like it with disapproval, like it had somehow offended him. "I'm not gonna drink a glass full of blood."

"You will, eventually. Or you will starve." God, I hoped this was not going to be a reprise of Interview with the Vampire, poor me getting stuck with a vampire who would starve or feed on rats rather than drink human blood. I hadn't gotten that impression from Tristan. To me he seemed like a person who preferred to live his life _enjoying_ it, not suffering because of his high morals. 

He ignored my reasoning. "So is there another way to prove that you're a vampire? That… we are?"

"You have the bloodlust, night vision, fangs, ears, nails, serious sensitivity to sunlight… I don't know what more you need to believe."

"But, you know, vampires don't exist."

"Yeah, that's a concept you're going to have to change."

He frowned in a way that made me think he was considering it. After all, the proof was indisputable. It was his old worldview that was holding him back.

"I want to see a doctor," he muttered.

"Again?"

"Yes! They need to fix me!"

"You can't go to a doctor, not anymore."

"Why the hell not? I wanna talk to the doctors to see if there's a cure."

Did that mean that he was finally giving in, admitting that he just might have turned into a vampire? "There's no cure. This is what you are now, and with that comes a responsibility to keep it a secret."

He leaned back, eyeing me with a rather mocking look. "Oh really? And who made those rules?"

"It's for our own safety."

"I can see why it must have been a necessary precaution in the dark ages, but this is the 21st century. Many things that in the past were considered the devil's doing have been recognized as illnesses or disorders by the modern medicine. Mentally ill people don't get ice picks shoved into their brain anymore."

"This is different."

"How is this different?"

"People don't believe in vampires and the revelation would cause a worldwide panic."

He tilted his head. "That sounds _very_ unlikely."

"No, it doesn't. It's very likely."

"Have you even tried?"

I mused over it for a moment. I hadn't, not in the way he meant it, but there were people who knew about the true me. Or at least had known. "Some people have found out."

"And then what? What happened?"

"They… uh, they're not amongst us anymore."

"You killed them." That was not a question.

"Because they freaked out!"

"I assume the way you told them had more to do with it than the fact that you're a vampire. Like, if you bit into their neck and then dropped it as a side note: 'By the way, I'm a vampire.'"

"It wasn't exactly like that."

He didn't believe me but didn't bother arguing. "How long have you been one?" His voice hinted genuine curiosity, even though he tried to hide it beneath a nonchalant expression.

"Forty years."

"Only forty years? In stories vampires are always centuries old."

"Sorry to disappoint you. I was born in 1955."

"And you were turned in..?"

"1978."

"Oh. So you were 23 when you died?"

"I didn't die. I'm not dead."

"That's what they say about vampires. Living dead, you know."

"My heart is still beating. I breathe, I drink, I sleep, I bleed. I think I'm very much alive."

"Fine then. So you were 23 when you were transformed?"

"Yes."

He fell silent, perhaps thinking about my history, my situation. Maybe this was the first time he actually considered that I had a story too. That I hadn't been born this way. Someone had bitten into my neck too, someone had turned me. And it might not have been my choice.

"How old are you?" I asked.

"I'm 26."

So we were not that far apart. I hadn't thought we were – he looked young enough – but it was good to be sure. He might see it differently though and count the actual years. But the age gap wasn't our biggest problem at the moment.

"You know, this is a really, really, _really_ shitty situation. I don't know what I should do. Hell, I don't even know what I should think," Tristan said, his voice resigned. He wasn't resigning to his fate as a vampire but rather getting tired of arguing with me. I was getting tired too. This was the longest I had talked with anyone in years, apart from Breena.

"Sorry."

He cocked an eyebrow. "I don't think a simple 'sorry' is going to make up for ruining my life."

_Well, it's more than I ever got._

When I didn't answer, he exhaled long and sort of defeated, tapping his new sharp vampire claws against the table surface before straightening his back. The chair legs scratched at the floor as he pushed his seat back, getting to his feet. "I think I need a smoke."

"You can't smoke."

"I didn't mean here. I'll go outside. I'll take the umbrella and stay in the shadow."

"No, I mean you _can't_ smoke. Not anymore. You'll get horribly sick." Hadn't he learned anything about the breakfast and antibiotics episodes?

He threw me a dirty glance. "Watch me." And then he went.

**Author's Note:**

> The header image is made by the amazing Tanja. You can check out her work  
> [here](https://www.tummanpuhuva.com).


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